Castle
by movieholic
Summary: The man was like his name: a castle.


The man was like his name: a castle.

Large, built, and formidable.

He was, however, exceedingly handsome, funny, and charming. Although those redeeming qualities were hard to discern from the man at the moment.

Castle wasn't feeling up to his name. He _was_ living up to one of his many rumors: a man who occasionally held himself up in his office, drinking whatever alcohol his mother hadn't yet gotten to. It wasn't a fan favorite, but it was still out there. The rumor also included a version in which Castle blared "Love On the Rocks," by Neil Diamond, although this night it wasn't his choice of music.

"The book of love is long and boring," he sang in a low voice, swooshing the glass of alcohol in the air, unaware of the fact that it was dangerously close to ending up on his shirt, "No one can lift the _damn_ thing." His singing voice broke off as he laughed humorlessly, taking a sip of his beverage. He coughed, cleared his throat and continued. "It's full of charts, and facts, and figures...and instructions for dancin'."

The music continued in the background as Castle took another swing of alcohol. He hummed a few more bars, before sighing and closing his eyes. He placed the glass against his forehead, rolling it back and forth, in a poor attempt to alleviate the forthcoming migraine with the cool moisture. All he had was a thin sheen of wetness on his face to account for his failure.

Failure.

Castle grumbled, scrunching his nose up.

He had failed.

He, Richard Castle, had failed in getting the girl.

The fortress had been overtaken.

By love.

Castle made a nose of disdain under his breath.

The thick, cement walls were cracking, and beginning to crumble.

The towers stood tall, and unguarded.

The surrounding water boiled.

Love.

_"...some of its just transcendental, some of its just really dumb..."_

Oh, how he wanted to jump up and change the damn music. Instead, he gulped deeply from his glass, and exhaled hard through his nose.

He was in love.

She...wasn't.

Castle downed the rest of whatever remained in his hand, before placing it on the end table next to him. The bottle was well in reach, in case he wanted more, but his already throbbing headache begged him to ease off somewhat. He silently agreed.

Somewhere behind him, a door squeaked open. Castle opted to feign sleep, keeping his ears open for the intruder.

"Richard!" the very female, very irritable, very Gina snapped. He flinched, but opened his eyes slowly, and offered her a sheepish grin.

"Yes..." he drawled, looking up at her from he was sprawled on the couch, laptop long forgotten beside him.

"You're supposed to be working on your novel, not boozing it up like some _bum_," she sneered in disgust. "And what is that horrible sound?"

"Music, Gina." His responses were short, and not entirely too rude. He wanted her to go away so he could continue stewing in remorse and regret.

"Well," she stalked over and turned the music off, "Can't have you getting distracted, now can we?" Gina offered him a sickly sweet smile, before frowning and quickly making her way to the end table. "And what is _this_?" She held up the bottle accusingly. A quick whiff of it made her face scrunch up as she quickly added, "It smells homemade."

"It probably was," Castle joked weakly, once again offering her a small grin. He wanted her to leave. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly, ignoring the sound of his joints protesting at his movement.

Gina studied him for a moment, looking for all the world like she was going to say something sweet, but instead she said, "You look like crap."

"You're so...charming," he sighed, and when she turned and finally left him alone, he literally hissed, "Like a snake." He stuck his tongue out for emphasis. Risking a glance at his watch, Castle moaned into his hands and dragged his fingers down his face.

Moving the laptop off the couch, he made himself comfortable, and settled in to sleep where he lay. After several minutes, his breathing evened out, and his nose twitched with every snuffle he made.

The castle was unmoving in the night.

A large, built, formidable castle.

Unguarded.

A lone figure stole into the night. He expertly made his way to the front doors of the massive, bleak and gray fortress, and called up to the woman who was locked inside. Eagerly, she made her way down the side, and together they ran off, hand in hand.

Castle was empty.

Castle was alone.

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**The End.**

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